


We Run Wild

by baltshake



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Cheating, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baltshake/pseuds/baltshake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living one's life free of regrets is such a noble goal but is rendered rather impossible by the actions of those close to one's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Run Wild

Going to the pub had been an awful idea. Q didn’t even drink normally if he could avoid it so going to a place that advertised itself as such a place where one would have to do such a thing was not very high on his to-do list. But he’d gone despite his better judgment to look for James. Said man had proclaimed he needed a bit of a walk which wasn’t too unusual so Q had let him be until it was reaching towards the midnight hour and he was still home by himself.

So he’d tried to call his lover with some small hope that he might answer but hadn’t been unduly surprised when he reached the preprogrammed voicemail. That was something else the boffin had come to expect from James and so simply hung up and immersed himself in catching up on more emails that had been piling up. Personal ones, thankfully. He could handle his family and so replied to each one with the diligence he applied to his work. But James still wasn’t home.

Another hour passed by and he allowed himself to admit that he was worried. Calling again and reaching that same recorded drone, he left a message asking if James was alright and to send him a text or give him a call when he turned his phone on again. His tone was light as he teased the future ear of the man about never answering when he wanted him and almost managed to convince himself that everything was okay.

Almost was the key word.

The sky was long dark and threatening rain by the time Q had pulled on his jacket and stepped out of their flat. There were a few pubs in the area he knew James frequented and several clubs after that though they were a bit further away. Those were ones that Q usually went to when he was in the mood but he hoped he wouldn’t have to go that far in his search.

The first pub was no good. On a Friday night, it was reasonable to have so many in attendance but hard as he looked, there was no familiar face amongst the gathering. So he moved on and shuffled down the street with his hands deep in his pockets. It was growing cold and he mentally berated himself for not bringing his gloves. 

Now that he was outside, he realized he could have simply checked his laptop for the tracker he’d installed in James’s cell phone. It was standard operating procedures, really. All agents had them as well as Q himself, the extraction teams, and anyone else who went out into the field. But he’d forgotten until he was standing on this street corner and waiting for the crossing light to change. ‘Maybe I should go back,’ he thought before shaking his head a little to himself. No, he’d find him. There was no reason he wouldn’t but, just in case, he’d go back and check if his next two destinations proved fruitless. 

Entering the second pub, he was relieved to find it wasn’t as crowded as the first. What he expected to find when he finally discovered James was to see his lover mulling over his scotch looking rather pensive. Or perhaps he’d be spilling his guts to whatever poor soul happened to be the bartender though that was doubtful. The only emotions James really showed in public besides his professional masks laid on a scale from disdain to rage though Q had been able to coax a few laughs out of him when they’d been to the shops. 

What he discovered was rather different than what he could have anticipated.

_ _ _

Shedding off his jacket, Q was hardly aware of the fact that he was shaking. It had started to rain on his way back to the flat and he hadn’t bothered pulling his hood up so he’d gotten a bit soaked. But the trembles that were running through him now weren’t the result of any anticipated storm.

For someone that was trained on observing his surroundings, James hadn’t noticed Q frozen in the pub watching him. He hadn’t seen the way Q had stopped breathing or heard how his heart was working overtime while the blond’s own lips were tracing a determined pattern down someone’s neck. He hadn’t looked around to see if Q was there when his hand ran up a slender leg and let it disappear underneath a blue skirt. Or perhaps he had. But if that was true, he certainly hadn’t bothered to dislodge the person from his lap to follow after the fleeing Quartermaster.

Tears came quick to his eyes once Q had sat himself on the bed. Their bed. The bed they curled up together at the end of the day, the bed they had sex in, the bed that he had thought James loved him in. The bed he was now falling back onto as he sobbed aloud and watched the dark ceiling above his head blur into a watery patch of gray.

‘So its finally happened,’ came the unbidden voice that often seems to accompany people suffering despair. ‘You couldn’t keep him all to yourself. And why would you be able to in the first place? You’re twenty years younger than he is, you barely have a fifth of his life experiences, and all you can offer him is your love and a brain power he has no use for. Clearly, neither of those amounted to very much in his eyes.’

“Shut u-up!” he sobbed angrily as he pressed his hands to his ears and then curled over onto his side. What good that would do he didn’t know since the voice was inside his head but he had to try something. But those hands did nothing to stop the images assaulting his mind. James. His James with someone else. How long had this been happening? Was he with the same person each time? Was every “walk” an excuse to slip of and see someone to satisfy himself?

Q wept louder as his hand went down to grip at part of his cardigan that covered his aching heart. It occurred to him that it had been a present from the very cause of his agony. All the gifts he’d been given, all the pretty words whispered into his ear, and all the times he’d thought he’d finally broken through James’s shell to see who he really was. ‘It was all a lie. He was never yours. He played you like he played all those marks in the past. You should be thankful that you didn’t end up dead like they did.’

Releasing himself, he reached out with desperate arms and hugged one of the pillows to his chest then crushed his face to the fabric, glasses and all. “I-I love y-you,” he cried to himself. “I f-fucking love you!” The tears ebbed and flowed time and time again until Q thought he’d run out only to be proven wrong once again. He’d long since discarded the pillow once he’d realized it smelled of James and what once comforted him now made him want to throw up.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d laid by himself in the dark but it seemed to be a small eternity. And James still hadn’t come home.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a small drabble with the same premise about a year ago so I decided to revisit it and make it into a fully formed fic. Feedback is always welcome!


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